


Heart of Ice

by Michelle



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cold Weather, Gen, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle/pseuds/Michelle
Summary: What starts out as a lazy summer afternoon in Rivendell soon turns into an adventure that leads Aragorn and Legolas into a wintry forest.





	1. Summer Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't Tolkien. Therefore, I don't own Aragorn, Legolas or Erestor. But I could make honeycakes, if I really wanted to.  
> Beta: ElenaRoan *hugs*  
> Note: A plot that has been done countless times, but I just couldn’t resist. The setting is inspired by the only fairy tale that ever managed to really scare me (it’s not a scary fic, though), thanks to the genius of H. Chr. Andersen. Additionally, no rangers were harmed in the writing of this fic. At least not permanently. Written for the December Teitho Challenge “Winter Wonderland”.

_"Ice and snow is there! There it is, glorious and beautiful!"_ (Hans Chr. Andersen “The Snow Queen”)  
  
~*~

  
**1\. Summer Feeling**  
  
It was one of those rare lazy summer days with the sun shining, the birds singing and the wind gently playing with the leaves of the surrounding trees. In short, it was a scene of peace and quiet. Not even one of the twins’ disastrous pranks destroyed the silence engulfing the meadow just out of Rivendell. Aragorn had left his group of rangers in the capable hands of Halbarad to spend at least part of the summer season at home. To his suprise Legolas had already been awaiting him in Rivendell, claiming they had not seen each other in ages – as he called it – and proposing at least a week of lazing around and enjoying the comforts of home.  
  
Currently both elf and ranger were comfortably resting in a quiet meadow, the sorry remains of a picnic next to them. The hours of the afternoon stretched out before them, because time tended to lose its meaning when they had no obligation to be somewhere or do something. They were watching the clouds forming shapes on the horizon: A dragon here and a mûmakil there, Aragorn lazily twirling a blade of grass between his fingers and Legolas humming a melody to himself almost inaudibly.  
  
“You know,” Aragorn broke the companionable silence, “I think it is a myth that we are always seeking adventures, coming home half-dead and in desperate need of my father’s skill. I am quite content just lying here staring at the sky.” To prove his point Aragorn never took his eyes off the fascinating shapes the clouds seemed to form. He did not see, but certainly heard Legolas’ reaction: He was trying to stiffle a laugh.  
  
“I would like to agree if I did not know you will be begging your father on your hands and knees to allow you to go on patrol with one of the elven parties next week at the latest. Me, on the other hand, I never had much taste for adventure. Hacking away at orcs? Getting myself nearly killed? Who would enjoy something like that?” He raised an eyebrow. “It is only your insistence to drag me into all these kinds of situations that, well, gets me into all these kinds of situations!” he huffed.  
  
“Ha!” Aragorn felt he should be insulted at those words. It wasn’t that they hadn’t had this conversation before. They excelled at blaming each other for every misadventure they ever had the luck of surviving, but it never stopped them from riding out on foolhardy missions. So maybe they shared in the blame, but Aragorn would never admit to that! He was saved from coming up with a scathing reply by Erestor, who just then appeared on the edge of the meadow.  
  
“There goes our peace,” Aragorn muttered instead.  
  
“And the rest of the honeycakes. You know he lives for those honeycakes,” Legolas added wryly. With a resigned sigh – because they truly desired nothing more of life than lying lazily on a meadow in summer – both friends sat up to greet the counsellor.  
  
Erestor for his part walked up to Aragorn and Legolas, sat down gracefully on the grass and eyed the picnic basket with hungry eyes.  
  
“You do not mind me taking one of your honeycakes, do you?” he asked, while simoultaneously grabbing one of said cakes and happily munching away on it.  
  
“Oh, of course not, Erestor,” Aragorn replied dryly, but his reaction was lost on the elf who had blissfully closed his eyes to better enjoy the taste of the sweet treat. After another three bites Legolas decided to loudly clear his throat. He really wished to know what had brought Erestor out here.  
  
“Ah, forgive me, young ones,” the counsellor started. “A young ranger just arrived at the house and wishes to see you in an urgent matter, Aragorn. I believe he introduced himself as Vartas.”  
  
“There goes our peace, indeed,” Aragorn decided. “‘An urgent matter’ does not really sound comforting. I fear, my holiday may have just been cut short.”  
  
“Maybe you worry for nothing,” Legolas tried to reason. “Let us hear his news before you decide on how comforting it is.” And with that he nimbly jumped to his feet. In reaction, Aragorn held out his hand to him to be helped up. He came to stand with a grunt, because Legolas playfully pulled him up with just a bit too much force, but Aragorn righted himself before he could topple over.  
  
In the few minutes it took the three of them to reach the house, Aragorn sobered up quite a bit. Bickering and bantering with his brothers and friend was all well and good when at home, but the matter at hand called for the battle-hardened warrior and chieftain of his people. By the time they had reached the house Aragorn had transformed back into the responsible ranger he was. The shift in personality was something he had come to terms with years ago.  
  
With a sweep of his arm Erestor directed them in the right direction. “Elrond bid him to wait in the library. You will find him there.” His task of summoning the ranger complete, he left the two friends to their own devices.  
  
“Do you want to speak to him alone?” While Legolas knew Aragorn would not object to him sharing in the conversation, the younger ranger might not feel the same way. The rangers were a secretive bunch, and rightly so. It was all the same to him, Aragorn would tell him the news later either way.  
  
“That might be a wise decision. We will meet up in your room, once I am done here.” With a nod he straightened his back and went on to the library leaving Legolas in the Hall.  
  


~*~

  
Once inside the library, Aragorn found young Vartas curiously eyeing the many books lining the walls. Aragorn was not sure whether the other man could read, and surely he would not be able to decipher the Elvish titles, but he looked interested enough in the knowledge accumulated here that Aragorn silently vowed to himself he would tell the boy one or two of the ancient stories if he ever should meet him again.  
  
When Vartas heard Aragorn step into the room, he practically jumped, obviously thinking it was not courteous to browse the library of your host.  
  
“Vartas, I assume?” Aragorn opened the conversation. “I was told you were looking for me.” He motioned for two of the plush armchairs residing in the library and bid the boy to sit. He seemed a bit nervous and out of his depth in these surroundings, better to make him as comfortable as possible. He would learn of this ‘urgent matter’ much faster and easier that way, Aragorn surmised.  
  
“Halbarad sent me, Captain,” Vartas started. “He says he has heard of a strange occurence he thinks you should be informed of.”  
  
That sounded mysterious enough, Aragorn decided. “And what strange occurence might that be?”  
  
“Well, I haven’t seen it myself,” Vartas was quick to relent, “but there is talk of strange happenings about a two days ride south along the Bruinen. You know the river runs through very even ground there, grasslands mostly.” Aragorn nodded.  
  
“The landscape has changed dramatically. It looks like some kind of border between summer and winter, people told us. One second you have green grass under your feet, the next you stand knee-deep in snow. A wintry forest has appeared on the Bruinen’s banks, seemingly devoid of all life. Nobody dares to venture there, because it has the feel of dark wizardry about it. Halbarad says, he does not want to lead all his rangers there, they might be missed elsewhere. No lives have been lost yet to this strange appearance, you see? But he wanted you to know about it.”  
  
Aragorn managed a grim smile. “And with ‘know about it’ he obviously means I should have a look at this wintry land and see what caused it.”  
  
Vartas impishly conceeded: “Well, he said something to that effect, which didn’t quite sound as polite as how you formulated it. He was sure you would want to know about something odd like this.”  
  
“And he was right. I have never heard of such happenings before. It is worth having a look at. You can stay here overnight and replenish your provisions if you need not be back at the rangers’ camp immediately. I am sure you will not object to sleeping in a soft bed for once,” Aragorn smiled. “When you get back to Halbarad you may tell him I have gone to investigate this matter and will send him message of my findings.”  
  
“But Captain,” Vartas was alarmed, “you are going alone? Nobody knows what this strange land might hide in its midst!”  
  
“Mhm,” Aragorn pretended to think hard and rubbed his chin for good measure. “You are probably right. It would not be wise to get myself killed there and none would be the wiser. I will take someone with me.” And with a devious grin he added: “And I already know, who!”  
  


~*~

  
“You what?” Legolas asked irritably.  
  
“I told the kitchen to pack provisions for us, because we leave tomorrow on a little adventure.”  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes dramatically. “What became of – and I quote,” he added with a raised eyebrow, “‘I am quite content just lying lazily around staring at the sky’? I thought it would at least take another three days until you got stir-crazy.”  
  
“It might have taken three days if Vartas had not shown up. You know I cannot simply forget about this message without looking into the matter.”  
  
And Legolas knew. It was Aragorn’s calling, the responsibility he had taken up. If there was a chance this wintry forest might prove dangerous to folk – and Legolas had to admit it seemed very likely -, Aragorn would want to intervene. And since he could not stop him, it was better to humor him. Even though Legolas just knew they would probably end up in one of those situations again. It didn’t take any gut feeling to know that, knowledge of their past adventures was indicator enough.  
  
Legolas sighed once again for good measure and then set about packing up what he would need for that little trip. At least it would only take them two days down the Bruinen and not all the way into Harad! But then again, you could get yourself killed in either of those spots, only the trip was shorter.  
  
Aragorn shot Legolas a bemused smile at his resigned posture. In his opinion, the elf could just admit he enjoyed those outings as much as he did. And anyway, more often than not it was Aragorn who got shot, stabbed, flogged and generally mistreated. The prissy elf had nothing to complain about!  
  
“We will leave tomorrow at dawn,” Aragorn said over his shoulder and left the elf to his preparations.

_TBC_


	2. Discoveries

**2\. Discoveries**  
  
During their ride down the Bruinen Legolas had tried to maintain his opinion that staying in Rivendell and enjoying many more picnics would have been the better activity. However, even he had to admit that the sunny August weather and leisurely ride lifted his spirits. They were making good time, stopping for breaks every few hours and sitting at the riverbank watching their horses drink and splash in the shallows. They did not speak of their suspicions concerning their destination, trying to uphold the illusion of a normal outing for as long as possible. There was no reason to worry about the problem just yet. The worry would come to them on its own soon enough.  
  
Meanwhile they were nearing the evening of the second day of their ride, which caused both to become increasingly nervous. They had been riding through the grasslands Vartas had mentioned for quite some time now, lush meadows housing a wide array of summer flowers. There were single trees here and there, but no winter forest. It was not until an hour later that the occurence Vartas had described to them came into view.   
  
The forest did not reach the riverbank, but started about one hundred feet further inland. The trees were standing close together, not offering a glimpse into the woods. They were leafless, making them stand out even more in contrast to the succulent grass Aragorn and Legolas were standing on, and covered in a mantle of snow. It looked as if someone had cut out this forest from another region in Middle Earth and placed it here. It didn’t belong and the two friends surveyed the scene in stunned disbelief.  
  
“I had half-hoped Vartas was telling us a fairy-tale,” Legolas said into the silence that engulfed them. “It seems impossible that such a thing could happen.”  
  
Aragorn nodded. “I have seen my father’s ring at work,” he injected, “and it is a powerful tool. But even Ada could not achieve this. It is wrong to force nature like this and hold it in a false winter. I fear what we will find when we venture there, but go we must.”   
  
It was what they had come for, there was no turning back now. They could only delay the inevitable.  
  
“We should make camp at the river and approach the forest tomorrow. It is almost dusk and I do not wish to enter those woods in the dark of night.” It was a reasonable plan and gave them the chance to get used to the sight of snow covered tree limbs in the middle of a summer landscape.  
  
Aragorn nodded his agreement and went to tend the horses while Legolas got a fire burning. Once they were seated, enjoying a small meal and hot tea, the crickets had started their evening concert and the moon was beginning her journey in the sky.  
  
“I wonder what we will find in there, Legolas,” Aragorn wondered aloud, his gaze drawn to the forest. The moon illuminated the snow, giving the scene an eery light. “Something, or rather someone, must be causing this. It can only be wizardry, I suppose. Perhaps we are ill equipped for this trip. I would feel much better were Gandalf here with us.”  
  
“There is no going back now. We have faced worse than just a bit of cold weather,” Legolas gave Aragorn a lopsided grin, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
The man was thankful for the distraction. “That is easy for you to say, you were never the one to catch a cold!”  
  
“True,” now Legolas was really smiling, “but I am always the one to suffer your bad moods. You can get really cranky when you are cold!”  
  
“Not feeling your fingers and having ice cold water running down the hem of your shirt definitely is a reason to be cranky! You could at least be more sympathetic!” Aragorn all but pouted.   
  
“Enough,” Legolas conceeded. “We better try to get a good night’s sleep or tomorrow you will be cold and tired. You are already insufferable when you are one of those things. I do not want to find out how it affects your mood to be both!”  
  


~*~

  
They were up early on the next morning, tidying up their camp only slightly. They had decided to leave the horses and most of the provisions there and explore the strange forest on foot. They were much too visible if they were to take their horses with them. However, Legolas urged Aragorn to take his coat and a warmer shirt with him, reminding him of their conversation from last night. “Fight the crankiness before it begins,” he had called it, but his eyes had shown honest care. He did not want to return his best friend to Rivendell sneezing and coughing.  
  
When they reached the forest edge Legolas concentrated hard on the trees before him, but he was not able to hear their thoughts. Silence greeted him and even when he stepped onto the snow and put his hand on the bark of one of the outermost trees he got no reaction. It seemed as if this forest was sleeping or even dead, nothing stirred in Legolas’ mind.  
  
“That is strange indeed. The forest does not have a voice. This does not bode well,” he told Aragorn.  
  
“No turning back now. We will never get to the bottom of this mystery if we do not enter.” And with a deep breath he stepped into the forest and knee-deep into the snow.  
  
The drop in temperature was instantaneous. Aragorn shrugged into his leather coat and saw his breath fog in front of his face. Stepping from a warm August morning into the freezing cold of winter was a shock and he shivered involuntarily. Legolas, unfazed by the weather, stepped up to him and together they began their journey through the woods.  
  
After walking a few paces they discovered that the foreboding air they had felt from the outside obviously was a dsiguise to keep unwanted visitors out. Soon the treeline opened up into an inviting winter landscape. The deep snow was undisturbed and glistening in the sun. The branches of the trees were hanging low under the weight. The air smelled crisp and fresh and both friends took some deep breaths. The azure August sky above rounded off the peaceful imagery and Aragorn began to doubt whether there really was some evil afoot here. Obviously the elf was reading his thoughts.  
  
“Do not be so quick in your assumption. This place is beautiful indeed, but the trees are still silent to my pleas. Something else beside the snow is weighing down on them. A shadow is veiling this land, we better be on our guard.”  
  
In response, Aragorn’s hand closed around the hilt of his sword. He didn’t unsheath it, but he would be ready for whatever danger presented itself.   
  
They started venturing further into the forest, without any certain direction in mind. They hoped to cross through it and find what they were looking for along the way; even if they didn’t actually know what they were searching for.   
  
It was still early in the day when they approached a break in the trees. There was a large clearing ahead of them, but from what they could see from their position the clearing wasn’t empty.  
  
“What is that?” was all Aragorn could say, his comment earning a shrug from Legolas. It looked like a mountain covered in snow and ice, but then again it did not appear to be a mountain at all.  
  
“We should go a bit nearer,” Legolas suggested, taking the lead.   
  
When they entered the clearing they found the mountain to be a house, and a large one at that. However, what shocked the friends most of all was the fact that the palace seemed to consist solely of ice. There were sharp edges everywhere and icicles adorning the surfaces, almost as if they had been placed there for decorative purposes. It looked like this strange dwelling had been carved from one enormous block of ice. It was breathtaking in its cold and lifeless beauty.  
  
“I think we found the reason for the eternal winter in this place. I am sure it hides behind those icy walls, but how to best approach this place, I am not certain,” Legolas mused.  
  
Just then a jaybird screeched above their heads alerting the whole forest to their presence. The friends jumped at the sudden sound, but did not have the time to retreat back into the trees. Above Aragorn a snow white crow had been sitting on a branch. Disturbed by the jaybird’s call it took off into the air causing the branch to sway. Much of the snow that had been covering the limb landed on Aragorn with a loud splash, drenching him instantly.  
  
Legolas was about to laugh at the sight Aragorn presented – wet and miserable, snowflakes in his hair and water running down his face, but then he saw the man reach out for the tree trunk for support, staggering backwards unsteadily as if he had been handed a blow.  
  
“Estel,” he called out to his friend, but stopped dead when Aragorn lifted his head and looked at the elf. Before his eyes he could see the human’s lips turn blue and his skin pale a few shades. However, the most frightening thing of all were his eyes. Aragorn’s compassionate grey eyes turned into a cold blue stare, misting over in seconds. They seemed to freeze over like a lake in winter, leaving Legolas to gaze into the eyes of a stranger. He saw a bone-deep shudder go through Aragorn’s body and then the man righted himself and took off in the direction of the ice-house without offering his friend another look.  
  
“This is not good,” Legolas muttered anxiously to himself in the hopes of calming down his racing heart. The snow was obviously affecting Aragorn. Maybe it contained some kind of poison? He needed to stay close to his friend, he could not let him out of his sight. Taking a deep breath he raced after him.   
  
It did not take him long to draw even with Aragorn and he tried to stop his motion by laying his hand on his arm. They were not far from the house now and every moment an enemy might step into their path. Legolas did not feel safe out in the open like this, he wanted to get Aragorn back into the trees, or better yet, out of this forest.  
  
However, taking his friend’s arm shocked Legolas to the core. It felt like touching stone; Aragorn’s arm was unyielding under the elf’s touch. Legolas’ hand went lower and he gave a choked gasp when his hand grasped the human’s fingers. They were cold as ice, the skin red from exposure to the elements. He wanted to help his friend, share some of his warmth with him, but the man never stopped walking towards the house and they had nearly reached the entrance now.  
  
Legolas cursed himself for being inattentive. He should have knocked his friend out and taken him back to cover; but from how his friend’s skin felt under his touch, he would probably just have broken his hand in the effort. When they were nearly in front of the house a pack of wolves appeared from nowhere. They were white, yellow eyes glowing menacingly. They didn’t seem to plan an attack, but to Legolas’ consternation only herded the two friends into the house.  
  
Inside was a palace made of ice. They entered a wide hall that would put Mirkwood’s throne room to shame it was so spaceous and high. The ice-walls seemed polished and smooth, yet everywhere he looked he saw only white. He felt nearly blinded by the sheer brightness of it. There was no other material visible, no wooden table or stone bench. All the sparse furniture he could make out was made of ice and snow.   
  
A metal band of fear tightened around his heart when a woman appeared on the other end of the hall and he saw Aragorn walking on steadily in her direction. Legolas made to follow his friend, but the wolves kept him at bay, growling and snapping. And though they obviously did not mean to kill him, they circled their prey and teared at his clothes.  
  
Legolas called out to his friend, but Aragorn didn’t seem to notice. He was still under some kind of spell, walking towards the woman as if in a trance. Said woman matched the palace in her cold beauty. Her robes were of an immaculate white. Her white hair that flowed down to her waist without any restraint was adorned with tiny gems, sparkling white when light hit them. Her eyes were the lightest blue Legolas had ever seen and her skin so white he would have thought her dead. Not even her lips held any colour. Everything about her was harsh and cold and the very air about her seemed to freeze. Aragorn stepped up to her and then ceased all motion.  
  
The woman appraised her catch. Slowly she took in the man’s features, his attire, his weapons and a look of disgust came to her face.  
  
“A man,” she surmised disgustedly. “I do not suffer the presence of a man in my halls. He shall not leave here alive, for he has trespassed into my land, where no human shall ever walk. But you elf, my touch cannot affect you. I hold no dominion over you. You are free to go and leave this place.”  
  
Legolas fairly shouted at the woman, contempt colouring his voice. “I will not leave my friend here. We came together and we will leave together.”   
  
The woman gave a high pitched laugh, a sound so shrill and cold-hearted it raised goosebumps on his arm. It was the sound of metal screeching against metal, reverberating from the ice-walls around them.  
  
“I do not think you can command me here, elf. I shall have the heart of the man. You do not concern me though, do what you will.”  
  
She had taken a few steps in Legolas’ direction and Aragorn turned with her, keeping her in his sight. When she had spoken her last sentence Legolas could see awareness return to his friend’s eyes. The spell was obviously leaving him – his eyes their usual grey again and his skin losing its sickly colour -, but the man was still too stunned to react fast enough to the attack that came.  
  
Without preamble the woman turned back to him and ripped his shirt open. She rested her white hand above Aragorn’s heart and Legolas saw the man gasp and sway. Tendrils of frost were leaving her hand, entering his friend’s body and wreaking havoc in his system. His healthy skin tone, much darker than the woman’s even in this eternal winter, turned a sickly grey and then a deathly white, frost patterns appearing on his bare chest in a matter of seconds. Aragorn started to shiver violenty under her touch, his teeth clattering, and his hands clutching desperately at the woman in the hopes of dislodging her hold on him. His strength was fading rapidly and soon it was only the woman’s hand on his heart that held him upright. He did not hear Legolas’ desperate shouts and did not see how his friend tried to break free of the wolves to come to his aid. His world had shrunk down to the point where this woman touched his skin, spreading such cold in his body as he had never felt before. He felt it race through his body and settle in his bones like a palpable enemy. It held his heart in a tight grip, leaving his mind numb and confused in the clutches of such cold evil.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity the woman let go of Aragorn whose knees buckled the moment the contact ceased. He wrapped his arms around his body, trying to maintain warmth, his hands shaking relentlessly. At the same time, the mysterious woman stepped back, appraising her handiwork, and addressed Legolas: “He will not leave here alive. You are free to go.” And with that, the wolves scattered as if on a silent signal and the woman left through a doorway in the back of the hall.  
  
Legolas did not waste a moment and raced up to his friend, dropping to his knees beside Aragorn. The human did not aknowledge anything that went on around him, Legolas doubted Aragorn had even taken notice of the strange woman’s disappearance. The elf took his friend’s icy fingers in his own in the vain attempt to warm them up. He felt Aragorn’s hands shake in his own grip, his fingers unbending and frozen through.  
  
“Estel,” Legolas urged his friend, “are you with me?” He rubbed the man’s fingers, trying to get him out of his stupor. But when Aragorn looked up to him, Legolas could see awareness in his eyes, obviously the human wasn’t as far gone as he had originally feared. He was just consumed by the cold – and dangerously so.   
  
“I am with you,” Aragorn stuttered. “For now,” he cracked a smile. He knew as well as Legolas he wouldn’t survive long in this cold after the deadly touch of that woman. Legolas could see the imprint of her hand on his friend’s still bare chest. Frost had settled above his heart, intricate frost patterns covering more and more of the human’s chest in minutes. Acting on instinct, Legolas tried to dissolve this unnatural frost with his own warm hand, but the frost patterns only went on growing under the elf’s touch.  
  
Seeing that he could not help his friend here, he decided to come back to his earlier plan. He needed to get Aragorn back to their camp by the river, into the hot August sun.   
  
“Let us leave here, you will never get warm in this place,” he encouraged, buttoning up his friend’s shirt and and drawing his coat tightly together to make the man as warm as possible. “Can you walk? It will warm you up a bit.” He tried to keep his voice light and undisturbed, even if it greatly worried him that Aragorn’s heavy shivers didn’t show any sign of letting up.   
  
“Give me a hands up,” Aragorn replied and Legolas eaglery put one of his arms around the human’s waist and took his icy left hand with the other guiding them both to stand. Aragorn was shaky, but lucid enough, and leaning heavily on Legolas he made his way back to the entrance of the house and into the open.  
  
Legolas longed for the outside world. In the house, magic made the air heavy and he was hoping Aragorn would feel better once outside of the woman’s vicinity. However, the opposite was correct. They hadn’t taken five steps out into the open, when Aragorn’s knees gave out under him so suprisingly fast that Legolas had no chance of keeping his friend upright. They both went down into the snow, Aragorn going into a violent seizure in Legolas’ arms who was shocked into inaction. The elf clutched his friend’s body desperately, trying to calm him down, but the man was beyond listening to Legolas’ words. Suddenly, Aragorn’s body went rigid in Legolas’ grasp and his eyelids fluttered and then grew heavy. Legolas’ desperate plea for him to stay conscious went unheaded, the man passed out right there in front of the ice-house, finally closing his eyes and going limp.   
  
What had just happened? It was actually warmer outside than it was inside the house. Why had Aragorn reacted that way? With practiced moves, Legolas’ fingers flew to Aragorn’s throat checking his pulse. It was a faint and slow throbbing under his fingers, ebbing away even as he concentrated on the feeling. Aragorn’s life was fading rapidly while he was sitting there dumbfounded. It could not have been the cold. He had been together with a badly frozen ranger before and even if Aragorn had been miserably cold five minutes before he had not been near death – yet.  
  
‘He will not leave here alive,’ he remembered the woman’s words. _Did that mean...?_ he started. Did that mean Aragorn’s life was bound to this house now and he would die outside of it? But inside he would surely freeze to death eventually! It was a no-win situation either way, the only thing Legolas could do was test his theory and buy them more time.  
  
He gathered his unconscious friend in his arms and carried him back into the house, keeping as far away from where he had seen the woman take off to as he could. There were no real rooms to the house, but little niches that went off from the main hall and he selected one and lowered his friend onto the ground. There was absolutely nothing to make this place more comfortable – or warm – for him. In an attempt to get as much of his friend’s body off the ice as possible, Legolas scooted back to an ice-wall and sat down against it, gathering his friend in his arms, sharing his body warmth and coaxing him back to consciousness.  
  
A quick check of his pulse showed it was back to normal as much as was possible under these circumstances and Aragorn’s body soon began to shiver anew in Legolas’ arms.   
  
“Come on, Estel, wake up! You wanted to go on this adventure, don’t you dare sleep through it like this!” It would not do scaring his friend with his own fright. He had to be strong for both of them now, trying to free Aragorn from the woman’s magical hold and save his life. It was what friends did for each other.  
  
Legolas again clasped his friend’s cold hands to lend them some warmth, but then laid his hand first on Aragorn’s forehead and then on his cheeks in the hope of warming his friend’s face up a bit. It probably only served to make Legolas feel needed, but in the end the ranger stirred under his ministrations.   
  
“That’s it,” Legolas encouraged, “open your eyes for me.” His hands never ceased their journey across Aragorn’s cheeks, his forehead, his neck, noting the tremors that went through the human’s body.   
  
In response to Legolas’ words, Aragorn shifted in his arms, groaning, and then slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear his hazy vision, but then gave up the attempt and closed them again.  
  
“No,” Legolas cried, maybe a bit too desperately. “Do not go to sleep again. You have to stay awake!”  
  
“’m awake,” Aragorn mumbled, not opening his eyes again and trying to keep his teeth from clattering. “What happened?”  
  
“You passed out on me when we left the house. Apparently you are safer inside than outside of it,” Legolas hoped Aragorn would not inquire further. He did not intend to tell the ranger how he had felt his pulse fade under his fingers indicating that any attempt to leave their surroundings would kill the man instantly.  
  
“What did she do to you?” Legolas asked instead, hoping to get the ranger to talk and stay awake.  
  
“I have never felt anything like it,” Aragorn answered, “and you know I have been cold before. It was nothing like falling into ice-cold water or being caught in a snow drift. It did not feel like walking in a snow storm...” The man stopped to think of a way to explain the feeling to Legolas. “Rather the cold came from within. It felt like she was holding my heart in her hands, covering it with her cold fingers. This chill went through my body from the inside. I can still feel her icy touch wandering through my body.”  
  
“We have to stop her,” Legolas concluded. “Even if I have no idea how to go about it.” Their situation was quite desperate, in his opinion. He could not see any weakness in their opponent.  
  
“’Tis not natural. She must draw her power from somewhere, some magical core. She is just human, the magic cannot come from within her,” Aragorn suggested. It was just a thought, even though he couldn’t determine how this would help them now, he was way too much preoccupied with feeling cold. The shivers were only increasing, the constant movement draining his body instead of keeping it warm. He did not only feel the touch of the woman spreading within him, but also the ice-floor beneath him. The surface was so cold, he actually hurt. He shifted, hoping to alleviate some of the pain, but it just moved to other parts of his body.  
  
Legolas mulled over Aragorn’s words while he watched his friend’s restlessness with mixed feelings. He was awake and alert, but the cold was draining him. Legolas knew they had to find a way out of here – and sooner rather than later.  
  
“If she draws her ability from some magical tool, it would probably be somewhere in this place.” Of course, he could not be sure about this, but it was a place to start. “I think it is best I have a look around and see what I can find.”   
  
“I can help, four eyes see more than two,” Aragorn offered, trying to wriggle his way out of Legolas’ arms, but the elf would have none of it.   
  
“No, you stay here, I am swifter alone and I think it best if you stay out of that woman’s sight. She could be anywhere.” While talking, Legolas made to stand, leaning Aragorn against the wall, and shrugged out of his outer tunic. He then helped the ranger out of his long cloak. The man’s movements were sluggish and hampered by his shivers, but eventually they managed. Legolas took the opportunity to have a look at Aragorn’s chest, noting that the frost patterns were still there and growing, reaching up to his left shoulder and down to his abdomen. He quickly closed the man’s shirt and helped him into his own outer tunic – as far as such a feat was possible, Legolas was much slimmer than his human friend. To round off the ensemble he helped him back into his coat, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.  
  
“I will try to be as fast as possible, I promise. You just stay here and concentrate on staying conscious, understand? I do not want to come back and find you sleeping.” The concern in his eyes belied his stern words and Aragorn nodded in answer.  
  
“You will not find me asleep,” he vowed seriously, holding Legolas’ gaze unwaveringly. That was all Legolas needed, his friend would never break a promise. With a last look back he stepped out of their niche and back into the main hall.

_TBC_


	3. Explorations

**3\. Explorations**

The part of the hall where Aragorn and Legolas had made their temporary camp didn’t seem to have any rooms or hallways. There was no other way to go than follow the path the woman had taken upon her departure. Legolas hurried to the back of the hall, for the first time noting the intricate and complicated patterns decorating each surface. There were frost patterns, beautiful geometrical shapes he would have spent hours studying had not his friend been lying freezing just a few feet away. Legolas found a hallway at the back of the main hall, looking like a cavern covered in frozen water. In contrast to the wide hall this narrow cavern made the elf feel claustrophobic, but he needed to start somewhere.   
  
There were little niches hewn into the ice, with benches or chests made of ice here and there. He investigated every nook and cranny, everything that could hide the woman’s magical power, even if he had no clear idea what that power source could be. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to a man wrecked by shivers. It was entirely possible that those movements caused even more confusion in his brain than was considered normal for his human friend. But then again, what other chance did he have? He could explore this strange place or sit by his friend and watch him die.   
  
The hallway was long and narrow and no big surprises awaited him there. Just then, after a bend in the path, he could see the light shift up ahead. Everything here was stark white, the surfaces constantly giving off a blinding light, but up ahead the light shifted to a warm yellow glow.  
  
New hope blossomed in the elf’s heart that maybe the solution to their problem was right ahead of him. He just needed to reach that place, hope he would find the magical core and destroy it. He hastened his steps remembering his promise to Aragorn to be swift. Though, just a few feet before reaching his destination, the woman stepped out of the golden glow and stopped short, obviously as startled as he was by their sudden meet-up.  
  
Her colorless and white appearance was a startling contrast to the yellow light coming from behind her and with every passing second Legolas was more convinced that his destination lay just behind her. There was no faltering now. This was no place for courteous behaviour. That woman was by no means a lady, whatever her cold beauty. Obviously she was as cold inside as she was on the outside, it would be futile to exchange words with her and plead for his friend’s life.  
  
Getting up his courage and setting aside his hesitations he grabbed for his bow slung over his shoulders in one fluent movement and sighted in on his enemy. Drawing the bow, targeting the woman’s heart and letting the arrow fly was only a matter of seconds, but the shock of seeing the arrow embedding in the woman’s heart without doing any immediate damage caused him to give a strangled gasp.  
  
His opponent looked upon the arrow in her heart like Aragorn would look upon an especially gross bug crawling up his skin: It was a look full of contempt, but knowing the hated object could do no real harm. The woman grasped the arrow and drew it out without hesitation. She flung the thing aside not granting it another look. Instead, she stared at Legolas.  
  
The elf had noticed that no blood was coating the arrow. It looked clean and unused. It was puzzling him, but then again, mostly everything he had seen this day was a mystery. If he could not kill her with his trusted bow, he would have to try his knifes. Or his hands. Or anything else that came in handy. Taking a step forward to catch up with her, he was again stopped short by that accursed pack of wolves. These beasts seemed to come from nowhere, crowding him, but apparently not about to wound him. Getting out his knifes to fend of the animals proved to be a real challenge for the wolves came nearer by the second, brushing against his legs, snapping at his hands and making it generally a hardship to move at all in these narrow quarters. It was impossible to get nearer to the woman with all those wolves hindering him. He was throwing her retreating shape a desperate look, his attention going back to the pack pretty soon. While stabbing at the wolves with his knives without doing any real harm, he again could hear her heartless and shrill laugh coming from the distance. It reverberated from the cavern walls, clear as a bell but devoid of any emotion. The sound caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up and apprehension to crawl up his spine.   
  
He still had the room up ahead in his view, but slowly the wolves were leading him away from it, back down the icy hallway. There was no way for him to break through their hold and it seemed impossible to seriously wound them, so he grudgingly contented himself with the knowledge he had accumulated in his short trip.  
  
He had found a room unlike any other place in this eternal winter. Its uniqueness suggested it could hold the secret of this whole place. The woman had obviously not wanted to see him enter this chamber. However, he could not hurt her. Maybe she was immortal; not only immune to age, but to injury as well? He needed to get back to that room and break her spell. Legolas was sure now, Aragorn had been right all along. There was a magical core somewhere, and in the elf’s oppinion it was located in that room.   
  
However, the wolves did not let up, so he decided to let his investigations go for a moment and check on his friend. Maybe it would cheer the human up to know that Legolas had made progress in his search and was this close to solving the puzzle. In addition, he had promised to come back as soon as possible. He would check on Aragorn and try to reach the room again later.  
  
When Legolas and his company of wolves reached the main hall and it became apparent to the animals that he didn’t plan to backtrack, they almost playfully bit down on his wrists without drawing any blood. _Don’t mess with us,_ the gesture seemed to say. _Leave this place._  
  
He didn’t plan on following their last advice, but he would show cooperation for now. Seemingly convinced he wouldn’t try anything stupid, the pack dissolved as it had done before, running off and leaving him standing alone in the hall.   
  
Legolas made haste to get back to the niche where he had left his friend, but what he saw when he reached Aragorn, made his heart sink. The human hadn’t broken his promise. His eyes were open, staring at some spot next to his feet. His gaze was dull and he didn’t look up when Legolas sat down next to him. The elf noted with apprehension that the shivering had stopped, instead Aragorn was sitting still and listless with his back against the cold wall and his knees drawn up to his chest. He didn’t seem to notice the biting cold anymore, his obvious struggle to draw in breath his only movement. It appeared to be a conscious effort and even so his breaths were irregular and shallow.   
  
After sitting down Legolas scooted up to his friend, drawing him close to share warmth, and laying an arm around his shoulders. He took the man’s left hand from where it rested on his knee and covered it with his own, much warmer one. His friend’s skin was alarmingly cold, much colder still than when he had left him. Had he really been gone that long? The light in this palace was a constant blearing white, there was no sun or moon to judge the time by. His own perception was off, obviously. He had tried to be quick, but the touch of the woman was nothing the ranger could fight easily.   
  
“Estel,” Legolas urged in a soft voice when his friend didn’t react to having his stiff bones rearranged to accomodate his friend.   
  
No reaction.  
  
Legolas shook the human lightly and in the end his hand rested against his friend’s cheek as it had done the last time they had sat like this. Aragorn leaned into the touch, seeking the elf’s warmth, and Legolas took that as a good sign. He kept his hand there, trying to get the ranger’s attention and draw him out of his stupor.  
  
“Estel”, he repeated, a bit louder this time. “I am back. I think I found something of importance. Come back, you need to wake up now.”  
  
The human blinked. Slowly. Blinked again. Legolas noted that he obviously tried to take a deeper breath to clear his thoughts, but it was to no avail. His eyes still held only incomprehension and his breathing was still shallow. His hand in Legolas’ own tried to squeeze back, almost imperceptibly, but it wasn’t much more than the twitch of a frozen limb. Aragorn was reacting to the voice he heard, but Legolas doubted he understood what was being said.  
  
“Estel, it is me, Legolas. Come on, fight! You cannot give up now!”  
  
His voice was rousing his friend, agonizingly slowly. The man slightly turned into the direction of the voice, still not recognizing Legolas beside him and mumbled, “Brother, ’s chilly in here. Put another log on the fire.”  
  
His voice was quiet and the words blended into each other making his speech hard to understand. However, it was not the sound of his voice that alarmed Legolas, but what was being said. Aragorn was far away, his mind had retreated to a safe place to shut out the death that waited in this place. The ranger wasn’t aware anymore where he was or who was with him. He was in another place, with another person, at another time.  
  
Legolas remembered that story. The twins had told him a few years ago, with a mix of embarassement and mirth. It was easy for elves to forget that humans were much more susceptible to the cold, even more so when said human was a shy and frightened two year old. Legolas could not imagine his bold friend being intimidated by elves, but apparently back then, when he had just come to live in Rivendell, he rarely spoke, not understanding what was going on around him and why his parents had abandoned him. So it came about that nobody remembered that the boy would freeze when the October storms set in. And little Estel was too quiet, too afraid to voice his problem. Only when he had come down with a bad cold, the elves had noticed their mistake. It was during that time, that the twins had bonded with the boy and from then on till this day it was Elladan’s special task to keep his baby brother warm. He would stock the fireplace with wood, he would stroke the fire so his brother’s room was warm when he came back from playing outside – or later from a patrol or hunt -, he would see to it that there were enough blankets and cushions. All the elves had felt ashamed that the boy had come to harm because of their neglect, but it was Elladan who swore his brother would never be cold again in his own home. He had never broken his promise. To this day – and Aragorn hadn’t been a little boy for a long time – he took it upon himself to keep his brother warm.  
  
Legolas gripped his friend tighter. He was slipping away from him, the cold was stealing his best friend and the only way to save his life was to leave him here and go back to that yellow room. However, first he had to lend him some strength, because he had to hold out a bit longer.  
  
“Estel, it’s not Elladan. It is Legolas. Remember, we went on an adventure together?” Aragorn was still staring ahead, but now Legolas could see a spark of recognition in his eyes. He could practically see his mind working ever so slowly, trying to remember what had happened.  
  
“’Las?” Aragorn rarely used the affectionate term these days and to Legolas it was a testament to his friend’s state of mind. It was what Aragorn had called him when they had first met and the boy had been too young to wrap his mouth around a complicated name like Legolas. Noone else had ever called him that and he could still see an excited six year old jumping into his embrace calling him by that name, telling him he had missed him and it was high time he came visiting.   
  
“Yes, it’s me. It’s Legolas,” he smiled at the frozen ranger, running his hand through the tangled hair like he had done years and years ago and letting it rest again against the man’s cold cheek. Aragorn leant into the touch, desperate for some warmth, and shuddered into the embrace.  
  
“’m so cold, ’Las. Need to get warm.”  
  
“I know, come here,” and he guided his friend’s head down onto his shoulder so he could rest more comfortably. “Try to keep up your strength. We will have to hold out a bit longer, but we will get out of here. You will see. Remember our camp site from yesterday? The warm evening sun and the crickets? How the summer breeze went through the grass at the riverfront and you took off your shirt to catch some sun?” He was rambling, he had to admit, talking about what came to mind. About the last days they had enjoyed together, how they had lazed around in Rivendell and about the honeycakes Erestor had eaten. He could feel Aragorn relax next to him and was suddenly afraid the man could fall asleep. That could mean his death. As cold as he was now, if he went to sleep he would probably never wake up again.  
  
“Stay awake,” he nudged his friend. “You promised me not to fall asleep. You know that is far too dangerous.”  
  
“Don’ ’member,” the ranger slurred, obviously trying to think past the cold that had taken hold of his limbs. Legolas could see that the frost patterns were now crawling up his friend’s throat. Soon they would cover his face and come down his arms. They didn’t have much time left. “So tired..,” the ranger trailed off.   
  
“You cannot go to sleep!” Legolas shook his friend. Hard. He needed the man to understand. He started to repeat the sentence like a prayer to the Valar, _don’t sleep, don’t sleep,_ in an urgent voice, right into Aragorn’s ear willing the ranger’s befuddled brain to understand the importance of staying awake.  
  
Eventually Aragorn gave a nod, a minute movement and added, “Try.” Then he went silent, but kept his eyes open with an iron will Legolas had always admired about his friend.  
  
Legolas had noticed how his friend’s speech had deteriorated rapidly, he either did not have the strength or the concentration to form whole sentences anymore. Legolas tried to keep a conversation going anyway, in order to encourage Aragorn and keep him conscious. But as the minutes ticked by, the man’s answers took longer and he tended to trail off if the middle of a sentence. His attention span was getting shorter and shorter, obviously he had to concentrate all his energy on just staying alive.   
  
Legolas’ mind was racing. Should he get back to that room now and leave his friend here? Or should he stay for a little while in the hopes that it would give Aragorn more strength to survive? The decision was taken out of his hands when he noticed the ranger’s skin take on a blueish tint where it had been chalk-white before. The unnatural color of his slightly parted lips shocked Legolas. He had not imagined human skin could turn that shade of blue. When he lent down to look into Aragorn’s face he noticed the man’s pupils were dilated and did not follow the elf’s movement. He kept up a stream of words – just in case – but did not get much of a reaction anymore. Only after he had finished his little examination Aragorn again attempted to speak.  
  
“Need t’ lie down,” he managed to mumble into Legolas’ shoulder while the elf felt the ranger slump against him and practically go limp in his arms. He scrambled out of their embrace to gently lower Aragorn to the ground, resting his head on one of their packs to at least keep his face off the cold ground. He could see the man struggle to keep his eyes at least half-lidded, but Legolas knew it was a losing battle.   
  
With much effort, Aragorn managed to wrap his unbending fingers around Legolas’ hand and the elf realized with shocking clarity that this was meant as a gesture of goodbye. “Sorry,” the man managed to force out in a small voice when Legolas leant down, urgently begging his friend to stay awake, fight, live and not leave him alone, but Aragorn had spent all of his strength and with a sorrowed, “Can’t. Sleep,” his eyes finally slipped shut leaving Legolas with a deep feeling of loss and loneliness.   
  
The man was not dead yet, but it wouldn’t take long now if Legolas tarried much longer. Brushing a few strands of hair out of his friend’s face and letting his hand linger on his forehead for a little longer than was strictly necessary, he let go of Aragorn’s hand and with determination locked the fear and panic away and concentrated on his anger and hatred for the woman that had attacked his friend for no reason.   
  
There was nothing to make Aragorn more comfortable. His only chance now was to be quick, defeat their enemy and hope it would still make some difference to the man’s condition. Grabbing his bow and knifes – more for his own comfort, since those weapons didn’t seem to faze the woman -, he took one last look at his friend’s lifeless body and took off again.

_TBC_


	4. Full Circle

**4\. Full Circle**  
  
As an elf he normally did not give much thought to the importance of being silent and stealthy. However, in this icy place, every sound multiplied tenfold, echoing and reverberating off the walls. He had to make a conscious effort to be as quick as possible while still making no sound. Legolas was at a loss about what he should do if the woman cut off his path again. Weapons did not hurt her, what else should he try? Stare her to death?   
  
So far he had been exceptionally lucky. The elf made his way across the narrow hallway, barring every thought about his dying friend from his mind. His worry would only distract him and he had to concentrate on one thing at a time. Suddenly the yellow glowing room came into view at the head of the hallway and Legolas stopped short to listen to his surroundings. Could he detect other footsteps? Maybe the breathing of a human? The scurrying feet of the pack of wolves?   
  
Nothing.  
  
All was quiet. In fact, it felt like being trapped inside a tomb. Life was muted in here and the air became even heavier, indicating that the magic concentrated up ahead. A good sign, he concluded and made to go on, bow drawn to give his hands something else to do besides shaking with nervousness.  
  
He covered the last few feet to the entrance of the room and then, with a deep breath, stepped into it. He could not believe his luck! He had managed to get here, maybe Aragorn’s life wasn’t forfeit after all.  
  
As soon as his gaze fell onto the interiour of the small chamber, he knew this was the right place. Like in the rest of the palace, the walls were made of ice, but it looked as if they were built around an older structure. A little house, maybe? A barn? The furniture was simple but cozy. Dark wooden chests and drawers, a bed covered with dark red sheets, a desk adorned with writing paper and a quill. And in the middle of it all was a vial radiating with a warm orange light. In fact it was that light giving off the yellow glow he had seen from the outside.   
  
Legolas could not say with certainty what the vial contained. Even when he walked up to the desk to take another look he felt as if the shapes and colors inside the glass vial mocked him and confused his mind. It felt alive, bursting with energy. It yearned for happiness and love and family and security. It felt mischievous and caring and gentle. It gave off a wide range of emotions, the orange glow pulsing and swirling, dipping the room into changing colours.  
  
The elf was mesmerized, because the longer he observed the vial the clearer it became: It was a fëa, a spirit, a soul – everything that made up a being - contained in such a small glass vial. He had not been aware that anyone would be able to seperate the body from its soul, but the longer he thought about it, the more convinced he was that he was holding the woman’s spirit in his hands. That must be the core of her magic or at least the reason for it. But how to use it? Aragorn had been right the evening before: This was a task for a wizard. They were missing the Istar’s expertise here and Legolas felt more than inapt in dealing with this situation. He would have to improvise. Smash the vial? Steal it? Would it need an incantation?  
  
Whatever he would do, he had the item they needed. He would get back to Aragorn first. _Maybe a solution presents itself along the way,_ he hoped, not realizing how true that statement would turn out to be.  
  
Legolas was already back in the main hall, when he saw the woman head in his direction. In horror he realized she had come from the niche where he had left the ranger. What had she done to him? The man was treading on death’s path already, Aragorn would not be able to survive another of her icy touches.  
  
She spared him one of her shrill laughs, instead smiling evilly at him and taunting: “I see you are still here? It is no matter, the human will be dead any minute now and nothing more will hold you here. I will be free of both your company soon enough.”   
  
With that she made to ignore Legolas altogether and disappear to whereever she dwelt in that palace. But the elf would have none of it, holding up the vial and receiving a strangled gasp from the woman who had not been quick enough to school her face back into a mask of indifference. That split second was proof enough that he indeed held the key to their freedom in this hands, but that still presented the question of how to use it.  
  
Just then the contradiction of the woman’s harsh cold beauty and the warm gentle glow of the vial hit him and in a bout of spontaneousness he smashed the vial to the ground setting the soul inside free, even before he could see the agitated wolves filing into the hall behind him. They yelped and howled, quite the contradiction from the menacing beasts from before.  
  
The woman gave a shriek, a sound even more hideous than her laughs had been. The orange glow moved in her direction, spreading around her, envelopping her in a mist. Legolas could not really see past it, but he was sure to see the woman’s face twisted in anger, fear and pain while the mist whirled around her again and again and again. The warm light sparkled and entered her body, melting away the snowflakes in her hair, blushing her cheeks and reddening her lips.  
  
Still she shrieked, her body obviously so twisted by magic that she couldn’t take the warmth her soul envelopped her in. The mist caressed its body, overjoyed to be connected to it once again and at the same time destroying it involuntarily. The woman’s defence got weaker, her limbs heavier and in the end Legolas could see her slip to the ground while the glowing mist entered her body giving her a healthy tint – even in death.   
  
Because that was what he saw: The woman was dead without Legolas ever lifting a finger. She had not been able to withstand her own soul, it had melted away her icy demeanour and killed her in the process. If Legolas had had more time, maybe he would have felt pity for her in the end, but all his thoughts instantly flew to his friend and he rushed past the woman’s body back to the niche where he had left the ranger, not wasting another look on the wolves surrounding the body and sniffing it in confusion.  
  
When he skidded to a stop next to Aragorn’s lifeless body a few seconds later he was sure the man was dead. Looking at him he could not detect any movement of his chest and as predicted the frost patterns had covered the left side of his face. Even his brow and hair were covered in tiny ice particles by now. With great care Legolas pried Aragorn’s eyelids open to see whether there was any change here. But not even the dilated pupils from before were to be seen. Instead a film of ice had covered the iris, thin and cracked, but there nonetheless. It was a frightening sight to behold and Legolas let the eye close again.  
  
Instead he went to check Aragorn’s pulse on the right side of his neck, because there the frost hadn’t reached yet. His index and middle finger came to rest against Aragorn’s throat, pressing down gently while Legolas lowered his head in concentration, nearly coming nose to nose with the human.  
  
He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling in his fingers, willing a pulse to beat underneath the skin. He remembered how, many years ago, Lord Elrond had quietly taken him aside weeks before he was to ride out with a young Aragorn on a patrol to explain to him all those differences in humans and elves. He had talked about illnesses, fevers, infections and Legolas clearly remembered him talking about never giving up on a human suffering from cold. "Get him warm and see where it gets you," he had advised and Legolas did not plan on abandoning Aragorn just now.  
  
Still he had his fingers on Aragorn’s throat when finally he felt a slight throb. It was so faint he was not sure whether it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, but then he saw the frost patterns on his friend’s face receeding. At the same time the ice above them began to groan and screech, a sound Legolas recognized. The ice was melting, the woman’s magic waned. They needed to get out of here before the whole place came down on them.  
  
He struggled with their packs and weapons before he found a way to carry them that would leave his hands free for Aragorn. He gently lifted the human into his arms, quietly explaining to him what was happening, and made his way out of the palace without a look back at the dead woman.  
  
Because he could walk atop the snow he made his way swiftly back out of the forest. Distractedly he noticed the snow melting everywhere, drops of water hitting his head and whole patches of snow falling off trees. However, much more important was the still body in his arms, planning ahead his actions for when they would reach their campsite. They had spent the whole day in the woman’s palace, the sun was disappearing below the horizon. Just their kind of luck... Legolas had hoped the warm sun would revive his friend much quicker, but now they would have to make do with more traditional manners.  
  
Once they reached the campsite, Legolas lowered his friend onto his bedroll and began to strip the cold and clammy clothes off his body, sifting through their saddlebags for Aragorn’s spare clothes. After wrapping the man in about every blanket and piece of clothing he could find he went about making a fire. Legolas made a hot tea with water from the Bruinen and left the cup near the fire so it wouldn’t totally cool. Attempting to feed the hot liquid to the ranger just now would be fruitless. The man was unresponsive, his skin still cold and blueish, but when Legolas’ fingers again rested against his throat he could feel the beat of a pulse much sooner than before. He tried to coax a reaction from the human by taking his hand, touching his face and talking to him, but nothing worked. He would have to give it time.  
  
Once he had finished all his chores and sufficiently checked his friend over, he decided to lie down with him and lend his body warmth like he had done before. He distinctly remembered Elrond recommending this treatment, and apart from warming him, up the skin to skin contact might even reach Aragorn in his unconscious state and he would realize that he was not alone and cared for.   
  
Therefore he quickly stripped down to his leggins and again relieved Aragorn of the stash of tunics he had put on him only an hour prior. Legolas got under the blankets he had arranged around the ranger and scooted up to his back until he felt Aragorn’s cold skin against his bare chest. Even he could not surpress a shudder at the cold that radiated off Aragorn’s skin, but he decided to ignore his body’s discomfort and make sure their bodies were touching as much as possible.  
  
Time trickled by slowly. Occasionally, Legolas would check Aragorn’s pulse or get up and stroke the fire, but apart from that he was left to his thoughts and worries. After a while he started to sing, quietly only, because it had become late and he did not want to disturb the night. He started with “The Lay of Luthien”, simply because Aragorn had always loved that song and had developped a special connection to it after he had met Arwen. After that Legolas went through a set of minstrels he had learned in Rivendell, followed by quite a few that were sung only in Mirkwood and were therefore probably unknown to the ranger. When concentration and words failed him, he went on humming, making up the melody as he went just so Aragorn would know his friend was there beside him.   
  
Later in the night when he heard a faint moan come from the man beside him, he was up in an instant. Abandoning his spot at the ranger’s back, Legolas crouched down before him and to his utter joy found his eyes open. He had noted over the hours that Aragorn’s pulse got steadier and his skin warmed up, but seeing his prolonged unconscious state had been disconcerting. That Aragorn’s eyes were now open was final proof to Legolas that they had defeated the woman’s ill intent. It mattered not that the man’s eyes could not focus on anything or that his mind was not quite there yet. A smile spread over Legolas’ face nonetheless.  
  
“Estel,” he called in joy, letting his hand rest against the man’s cheek, because he did not want to disturb the pile of blankets to get to his hand. “I am so glad you are back with the living, my friend. You had me worried. The woman and her forest are destroyed, you do not have to worry about her anymore. Just concentrate on getting better!”  
  
There was no visible reaction, but Legolas had not anticipated one. Aragorn’s gaze was wandering restlessly, not focussing on anything, his eyes clouded and his eyelids heavy. He was breathing hard, seemingly trapped in a dream with his eyes open. Legolas decided to offer him some of the tea and see whether his body was aware enough to swallow.  
  
He grabbed the cup with one hand and lifted his friend’s head with the other, coaxing Aragorn to drink. “Come on, Estel, it is just lukewarm tea. It will do you good.” Half of the cup’s content went down Aragorn’s chin, but he saw the man swallow, so he kept up his encouragement. “Drink a bit more... yes, that is good. Another sip and you can go back to sleep. You will feel better tomorrow, you will see.”  
  
They hadn’t even finished half of the cup when Aragorn’s mind slipped away into unconsciousness and every try to wake him up for the rest of the tea was in vain. Legolas was pleased in any event. He had gotten Aragorn to drink a bit, the man had earned his rest. He needed it, and needed it badly.  
  
A while later Aragorn began to shiver and Legolas had to tighten his grip around the human. The tremors were hardly as severe as before, Aragorn’s body was too weakened for that. Once the shivering let up, in the wee hours of the night, Aragorn fell into a deep and restorative sleep. His skin tone was back to normal and when Legolas checked his pupils they would react to the light from the fire. He felt warm and alive under the elf’s hand and he took a few deep breaths to come to terms with their brush with death. He kept Aragorn under the pile of blankets, spread out his own bedroll next to the ranger’s and lay down with the intention of watching over his friend’s sleep. But the day had been exhausting for him as well, physically as well as emotionally.   
  
Within five minutes the elf was fast asleep.  
  


~*~

  
Aragorn woke to the feeling of intense heat. Cracking one eye open with a groan, he found himself buried under blankets and garments. As far as he could tell even their horses’ saddlecloths were added to the pile. His body felt heavy and exhausted, but it also felt hot, so he shuffled around a bit to dislodge at least a part of his many coverings. Of course, the noise woke Legolas instantly and he sprang into action in a matter of seconds.  
  
“Estel, you are awake! How do you feel, truly?” The ranger was still kicking at the blankets, but apparently only entangled himself more in his sheets.  
  
“Hot,” he ground out. “It is a fine August morning, no reason to smother me under a pile of blankets!” With that comment his eyes sought those of his friend and they both stilled for a moment, aknowledging what had happened. Legolas smiled one of his wistful smiles at the man, giving a small nod and Aragorn answered with one of his own trademark grins and added, serious again, “Thank you. For everything.”  
  
That was all that was needed between them. When one faltered the other would care for both of them and that was always the way they pulled through in the end.  
  
Legolas spent the morning fussing about the man. He made him tea and made sure he stayed under at least two blankets; much to the ranger’s protest. They were lying on the grass, side by side, Legolas recalling what had happened in the ice palace after Aragorn had passed out.  
  
“She is dead then,” Aragorn concluded, his eyes wandering to the spot in the distance where the wintry forest had been only yesterday. There were trees there, without leaves or any other summer vegetation, but trees. No snow, no eternal winter.  
  
“Yes, she is. She had a bright soul, I could feel it. But her cold heart killed her in the end and I am hard pressed to feel any compassion for her.”  
  
“Who knows what drove her to employ such dark magic,” Aragorn mused, “what despair caused her to give up her soul. We can only hope she finds healing in the next realm.”  
  
Legolas was amazed at the forgiveness in the man’s voice, but then again compassion had always been one of his finest qualities. This woman had brought him to death’s door not 24 hours prior and yet here he was, speaking in her defense.   
  
They didn’t speak anymore of the woman or what might have driven her. Instead they both lay on their backs, letting the morning sun warm their faces and stared into the clouds. Companionable silence stretched out between them, each one following his own trail of thought. It was a peaceful morning and nothing disturbed the quiet. It reminded Legolas of their day in Rivendell, picnicing in that quiet meadow and giving names to the shapes of the clouds.  
  
They must have both thought the same thing at the same time, because suddenly Aragorn turned his head in Legolas direction, wearing a mischievous grin. “You know,” he started, but couldn’t complete the sentence.  
  
Legolas was on him in a second, playfully shoving him. “Do not say it!” he laughed. “Do not dare say you are quite content just lying here staring at the sky!”  
  
And the laughter of both friends could be heard up and down the Bruinen.  
  
 _\- The End_

_(December 2005)_


End file.
